Prey
by sinemoras09
Summary: For heroes do not kill. Missing scene from episode 12. Jake, Sky High. Gen.


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The match did not last long.

Above them, the dark sky split into a sudden downpour, and Jake stood as Kriem opened her umbrella, which was red and stood in stark contrast to their darkened surroundings. With the toe of his shoe, Jake nudged the Hero in the ribs, waiting for any sign of consciousness. There were none. Kriem held out her umbrella as Jake leaned forward, yanking the Hero into the dirty light puddling around them.

They cut the television cameras. Miles away, Jake knew the Heroes would be beside themselves, wailing and gnashing their teeth as the image of their beloved King of Heroes cut to black, not knowing what was happening. The thought pleased him. He stood upright, cold rain rolling off his bare back, and grinned.

"Help me move him," Jake said, and his lackeys rushed forward, pulling Sky High by the armpits and dragging him inside the barrier.

xXx

.

He tossed the breast plate to the side, the last of Sky High's armor lying in a heap on the ground. Jake frowned as Kriem leered over Sky High's body, the thin purple fabric of his jumpsuit torn and ripped, the cuts on Sky High's chest and legs just starting to crust over.

"Careful," Jake said, as Kriem curiously poked Sky High with her foot. "He could wake up at any minute."

"Really?" Kriem said, and her eyes were wide as saucers as she sidled up to him, "but he's so _pretty_, I couldn't help myself!"

Jake turned, trying his best to ignore Kriem's impulse to unzip the Hero's suit and give his chest one long, unhurried lick upwards, starting at his sternum and tracing a wet line to his collarbone...

"_Kriem_," Jake said, and her thoughts thankfully snapped shut. "Stop oogling him and help me with the camera."

Kriem happily began setting up the tripod, screwing in the camera before giving Jake a big wet kiss on his cheek. Jake stared at the hero, glaring. King of Heroes, Wind Wizard and number one. Pathetic. It was people like him that made NEXT week, and Jake bristled at the thought. Kriem turned on the camera, waving.

"It's done, Mr. Jake," Kriem said. "Are we gonna broadcast this, too?"

"He's still out of it," Jake said. "Let's just wait and see."

Moments passed; Sky High was still unconscious. He wasn't faking it: Jake would know. Unlike other powers, telepathy wasn't something you could just shut off; hearing thoughts was just like hearing people talking around him, a buzzing sort of background noise. But nothing was coming out of Sky High's brain at the moment, just shallow, rapid breaths and the occasional subconscious spark of pain.

And then he saw it: Sky High's thoughts. The feel of cold concrete, the ache in his ribs and the dull pain seated at the center of his chest. _Yes_, Jake thought, and he crouched low, watching as Sky High slowly blinked back to consciousness, attempting to sit upright only to wince and hold his ribs. He was bruised and the cut on his lip was still bleeding; he could see blood seeping through the fabric of his uniform.

"Wakey wakey," Jake said, and Sky High's eyes widened.

A strike. Sky High pitched to the side, shoulder hitting the ground with a loud thud. Jake hit him again and the blow connected with a sickening crack, and Sky High's eyes rolled backwards. He made a sound, a sharp, startled escape of air, before crashing hard against the soiled concrete, the chains around his wrists and ankles rattling with his weight. Jake grinned, then smashed his boot into Sky High's side. Somehow, beating him felt perversely _good_: this was their King of Heroes, after all.

Moments passed. The sky was the color of dull dishwater and overcast, and around them there were no sounds except the scuffling of boots and the wheezy half-choked gasps of the hero getting kicked against the ribs. For some reason, a memory that wasn't his welled up like beads of water on a cold drinking glass, and Jake clenched his jaw, trying to ignore it: something from Sky High's childhood, cold and breathless, shivering under a sheet of rain.

A kick to the groin knocked the memory away, and Sky High cried out, the pain sharp and searing his insides like stars.

"Mr. Jake?" Kriem rushed toward him. "Mr. Jake, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jake said, because he was fine, it took more than a stupid kid's panic to overwhelm his senses. "He's freaking out too much. I have to be careful, otherwise..."

He tapped the side of his head, knowingly. "You know how it goes."

He turned. Sky High was watching him. Jake grinned, then stepped forward.

One well-timed blast, close enough to singe Kriem's hair, exploded past them, the sudden burst of compressed air sending a shock wave through the room.

xXx

.

There were limitations to having an ability like Jake's: while he could tune out most of the background noise, stray thoughts and the like, Jake could nottune out strong emotions, which were the mental equivalent of a harsh scream in a silent room. It took effort, but if he didn't his own thoughts could get choked out by the tortured thoughts of others, driving him insane: with Sky High he was dangerously close, very nearly feeling Sky High's physical pain and almost drowning in Sky High's memories, as well.

Now Jake whirled around, just barely missing the strike. Sky High was staring at him, breathing hard, desperation in his eyes, while behind him Kriem was clutching her arm. He had almost hit her, the fucker! and Jake stalked over toward him, jerking him upright.

"You think that was funny?" Jake said. "You were aiming for _me_, asshole! Make sure to aim right!"

And he stomped his boot against Sky High's hand. Sky High cried out, body tensed in pain.

Fucking boy scout; Jake wondered if that was Sky High's plan, overwhelm his senses before throwing a surprise attack.

"You like that?" Jake said. He pulled off Sky High's glove, looking at the mangled fingers and the bruised half-moons of his fingernails. "Maybe this will teach you how to aim."

Jake made sure to keep his back to Kriem when he did it; the girl was squeamish and too much blood would send her into a tizzy. Sky High screamed, the tip of Jake's pen shoving hard into his fingernails, and Jake tried to close his mind against Sky High's thoughts: pain, sharp and searing, invaded his second sense like birds smashing against a pane of clear glass, and he could feel it, he could fucking _feel _it, and Jake gritted his teeth, grinding down against Sky High's hand.

Jake stopped before the pain could overwhelm them both, the sudden withdrawal leaving behind only a dull ache. Sky High's hand was bleeding and he was breathing hard, curled up against the floor.

"Mr. Jake?" Kriem said. She scooted up to him, worried. "Mr. Jake, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jake said.

He tried to ignore the throbbing pain in both his and Sky High's hand.

xXx

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The interrogators had asked him once, why does he do it? Why attack innocent civilians when they've done nothing to hurt you?

Jake didn't bother to explain. With an ability like his, he could see their ignorance shielding them like thick armor, and there wasn't a point.

_Why?_ they asked, and Jake answered, _Why not_, and he let his lip curl into a subtle sneer.

xXx

.

"You're going to try something, aren't you?" Jake said. Sky High's eyes were burning. He leaned forward, breathing into Sky High's ear. "Try it. Go ahead. I'm getting bored now, I want to see what you can do."

Dirty fingers dug hard into the cut on the side of Sky High's face, making him wince. He could see it: the image conjured up in Sky High's mind, his and Kriem's bodies lying motionless on the ground.

Jake grinned, slowly.

"I can hear you," Jake said. "You think you can kill me: I'd like to see you try."

A drop of sweat dripped from the side of Sky High's temple, streaking down dirty skin.

"No," Sky High said.

"No?" Jake said. Sky High groaned. With one quick movement, Jake grabbed a fistful of Sky High's hair and yanked his face upward, pulling him close. "I'll kill you, pretty boy," Jake said. "Make no mistake about that."

Blood dripped down the side of Sky High's face, and his breathing was shallow. Jake could hear his thoughts; they were practically screaming:

_Let me die, let me die, let me die..._

"Let you die?" Jake said. He glanced over at Kriem, grinning. "Oh my. Our poor Boy Scout wants to die. Isn't that funny, Kriem?"

"It's hilarious, Mr. Jake!" Kriem said. She bounced lightly on one foot, aiming the camera.

It intrigued him, Sky High's abilities: there was something more there, just lurking beneath the surface. Something deadly and destructive but Sky High was holding back, even now.

"What can I do to make you do it?" Jake said. Taunted him, lightly. "You'd do it if you friends were in danger, wouldn't you?" Jake said, and he could see it: the flash of fear in Sky High's eyes. "Yes," Jake said, letting the syllables draw out in one long hiss. "I can read you like a book. That pathetic moral code of yours. You'd rather die than hurt me, wouldn't you?"

He motioned to Kriem, who moved around him, pointing the camera against Sky High's face. "Baby, show our hero what we can do."

Sky High's eyes widened. The detonators, black and smooth, fit perfectly in each of Kriem's palms.

"Kill us," Jake said. He leaned forward, whispering in Sky High's ear, "or else we'll blow up the entire city. You can do it, can't you?"

Jake leaned back, pleased with himself. Even without telepathy, Jake could see each and every tortured thought flickering across Sky High's face: honor and duty clashing against each other, the lives of the few versus the lives of the many, a desperate, disordered calculation. Sky High had no choice, and Jake knew it as well.

"Aw, what's this?" Jake said, lowly. "Our precious Sky High, starting to cry? It's okay," Jake said, and he lightly flicked off the tears welling at the sides of Sky High's eyes. "You're doing it because you _have to_."

Sky High began to glow. Jake grinned, watching. There was an electricity in the air, the anticipation of something unexpected. Sky High's eyes were empty, dull, even as the rest of him began to glow with a blueish hue.

A sound. Jake turned, saw Kriem begin to stumble.

"Kriem?"

"Mr. Jake..."

Her eyes rolled back. The camera dropped, smashing into pieces on the floor.

"Kriem!"

Jake caught Kriem in his arms, lowering her to the floor. Her eyelids fluttered and her skin was pale. Sky High was still staring inward, blue glow pulsing, slightly. Jake's eyes widened.

"The oxygen," Jake said. He was getting lightheaded. "You little fucker..."

He stumbled. Sky High's eyes burned.

xXx

.

Fuck, Jake thought. How could he not read it? But this was the essence Sky High's true power, something fundamental, like a beating heart or being able to breathe. Fucking ironic, Jake thought. Dimly he wondered how many people Sky High accidentally killed, too.

Sky High stared at him, eyes burning, as the blue-green glow seemed to flare up around him in taut bursts. Jake lurched forward and screamed, force fields licking upwards like flames, before smashing into Sky High's body and throwing him on the ground.

xXx

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_There was a memory that wasn't his: something from Sky High's childhood, bodies strewn around a teenaged boy, frightened and breathless and crouching under the summer rain._

"Kriem. Kriem, baby. Get up."

Kriem opened her eyes. Jake pulled her up, could feel her shaking against his chest. "Mr. Jake, what happened?"

"The fucker controls air, that's what happened," Jake said, he rubbed his neck and frowned.

They were lucky; the force field Jake generated was enough to knock Sky High out and preserve whatever little oxygen was left; Sky High was still unconscious when they jammed his helmet back on and hoisted his body upright, chaining him to the highest point of the stadium. The air was thick and storm clouds rolled, and the tatters of Sky High's costume whipped like banners across his broken body. Jake watched, his face a silent stone, as TV cameras zoomed in on the image, before flying closer.


End file.
